Sweetest Lies
by RAB01
Summary: Rose Weasley has always known she didn't fit in with her family, but in an odd chain of events, will she be able to learn about the lies her mother kept from her? What happens when everything you know changes and you are left behind to pick up the pieces
1. Saying Goodbye

**Hey guys, the idea for this story just came to me (though I would not be too surprised if it has been done before, though I haven't seen it yet, so that is a good thing!) and I really just felt like writing it. I am so so extremely excited about it and I hope you like it too. Updates will probably be alternating between this and my story Trapped, or maybe not. We will have to wait and see. Also this is my first first-person story. : ) I hope you love it and please leave me a review telling me what you think of it so far.**

Thanks,

RAB

**Without further adieu I will present to you my newest and first Next Gen. fic...**

S w e e t e s t L i e s

C H A P T E R O N E : S A Y I N G G O O D B Y E

I am sitting still, just like they all want me too. My black dress robe is only slightly wrinkled as it lays loosely against my pale skin, the contrast clearly evident. The stain that was on my robe only a few days ago is gone, after much hard work on my part to remove it. Of course I had to remove it, though. Who wears a black robe with a stain on it for an occasion like this? It would be inappropriate and surely everyone would stare at it. How disrespected they would think I was being if I did not remove it and I cannot have that. No. Not today. Not on this horrible, awful, scary, lonely day.

My light, curly, brown hair lies ruffled against the shoulders of my robe, as I bend my head down to face my lap. My grey eyes have a constant stream of tears pouring from them as I listen to some distant relative speak words of sorrow and love. They have all had their turn; each one of them saying something wonderful about her, of course at least two-thirds of them probably don't even know her at all. Yet they are here anyways, paying their respect to a woman worthy of said respect. It makes me wonder how much I know her. I would have to say knowing someone for sixteen years is a long time. Yet, she spent more than half her life without me and I know only bits and pieces of the events that occurred during those times. Do I even know anything about her life before I was born?

In the back of the overly large red room stands the general press, snapping pictures like there is no tomorrow. Of course this story will be all over the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow. Have they no shame? I can see it now, _ONE OF THE GOLDEN TRIO DEAD_. Yes, just imagine how many copies of that bloody newspaper will be sold because of their stupid little articles about an under appreciated woman. Yes, they all know what a heroine she was when she was in school, how many Death Eaters she put behind bars; they know her intelligence and her bravery. But they don't know her. They don't know what kind of mother she is, or what kind of wife, or friend. They don't know how she truly acts towards her family, her children, and that is, that is why they don't understand how amazing she is. Yes she as accomplished so many things, but her most prized, she told me once, was her family.

I pull my head up with a jerk, giving my neck a bad cramp. I reach my right hand up and rub it gently as I look around the room, appearing at so many unfamiliar faces. The red on the room reminds me of the Gryffindor common room, yet I hate it. I despise the color red. Red reminds me of blood, of pain, of sacrifice. I don't care if I am in Gryffindor; I love the house, but does that really mean I have to love the color as well in order to belong there? My favorite color, don't get me wrong, is green. Green is the color of nature, of life, of spirit, and yes, perhaps it is Slytherin's color... so what? Well perhaps my family isn't so keen that my favorite color is green; mostly Dad, James, Hugo, and Fred think that it is a bad thing.

Next to me sits my Dad, his red hair stands out like a giant in a room full of house elves. His chocolate brown eyes are filled with tears as he listens to the speaker talk of the "better days." I have never seen my father cry in my entire life and it scares so badly. On the other side of me sits my brother, Hugo; his red hair just as bright as my father's and his eyes just as brown. He is built just like him as well, tall and lanky, with hardly any muscle at all. Hugo's sobs are loud and distracting and only makes my heart break all over again.

All around us sits my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, friends, each one of them with tears in their eyes as they watch the ceremony take place. They are all here to recognize my mum and her life. Her wonderful life. She has accomplished so much, especially for being so young. Best friends with "the boy who lived" and his "sidekick", my dad. Yet, she hasn't accomplished enough. She was so young and still could have done so much with her life, she just didn't get the chance. Like she will never get the chance to see Hugo or I get married, or to hold her grandchildren, or to even properly say goodbye to all of those she loves.

She really was a great woman. One third of the Golden Trio, notable bookworm, and Auror extrodinare. But I never really saw her as any of that, except perhaps as a bookworm. She was just Mum to me. Wonderful, amazing Mum. Mum who would bake me chocolate chip cookies whenever I fell down; Mum who would make me laugh when I felt like I was going to cry; Mum who would read books to me before I went to sleep each night; Mum who would stick up for me when my cousin, James Potter, would tease me about being a know-it-all. Mum. My Mum. My smart, funny, caring, perfect mum.

And now she is gone. Gone forever. Forever was so permanent. Was I really, truly never going to see her wild, curly hair, her silly smile, and those looks she gave my Dad whenever he did something stupid, again? Was I never going to feel her hugs, smell her scent of honey and parchment, hear her laugh, see her smile, and taste her wonderful pudding again? Never again. Gone forever.

But how can she be? Wasn't it just yesterday that we were laughing over something silly thing that Hugo did? Or play wizard chess together (I could always beat her, but never Dad, though I suspect Mum let me win...)? Or when the two of us would cook dinner with Aunt Ginny and my cousin, Lily? How is she gone? She was too young, way too young to die, especially for a witch. What is the point of magic if we cannot save the ones that we love?

How could she leave me? How could she leave us? We cannot possibly manage without her. Who will cook dinner for Hugo and Dad? I can't do it alone. Who will discuss books and homework with me? I need someone and no one else in this family will do it with me.Who will bring a smile to my face during a bad day? Who will do all of that with her gone.

We cannot manage without her.

I look back over at Dad to see the tears still running down his face. I know he'll miss her more than he can possibly bare. I can see it in his eyes now, he is recounting all of their memories together in his head over and over again, from the day they first meet on the Hogwarts Express to just a few long days ago, trying to encode them there forever, so that she will always remain in his heart, just as she will stay in mine.

Looking over at Hugo, I cannot help but stare at his hair, before looking back down at mine. How is it that he got the red hair and I didn't? Aren't all Weasley suppose to have red hair? It's like a law or something! Well except Victorie, my Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's daugher. Her hair is more of a strawberry blonde. And well, James and Albus both seemed to take after their father, the famous Harry Potter, with his black hair, rather than Ginny, their mother's red hair. But everyone else. Every single one else, Fred, Molly, Dom, Louis, Lily, Lucy, Roxanne, and Hugo all have the Weasley red hair.

Why don't I have it? Isn't the red hair like a requirement to be a Weasley? Is my last name not Weasley? Come on know, whoever is in charge of giving out the genes is killing me here.

Everyone says I look just like my mother, or well at least, much more like my mother than my father. I have my mother's brown hair, though mine seems to be slightly lighter and more organized curls than her busy ones; I have my mother's frame; her shoulders; her round checks; her round, small ears; her small lips; her perfect nose.

But I don't have her eyes.

I don't even have my father's eyes.

My eyes are grey, with a hint of blue in them. No one else has anything like them in my family and believe me I've checked. Fred and James thought it odd one day a few years ago when I went around, staring into everyone's eyes, but I had to know, I had to know who else had eyes like me. I was finally forced to come to the conclusion that absolutely no one did.

I hear small, polite clapping going on and I realize whoever had been speaking has finished and steps down from the front of the room. I realize that finally the young woman who has just finished is the last one to speak and we all get up to mingle around the room.

I notice my Dad immediately walks over to Uncle Harry and Ginny and begins speaking with them; all three of their eyes are red from crying too much. I can't stand to see my Dad like this, or anyone else. Why did Mum have to leave us? Why now? Hugo and I are still so young. I'm only sixteen; Hugo is fourteen. We can't handle a life without our mother.

Hugo is over by Louis (Uncle Bill and Fleur's son), Lily (Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's daughter), and Roxanne (Uncle George and Aunt Angelina's daughter.) All of them are clearly in tears and speaking quietly among themselves. Lily reaches over and pulls Hugo into a comforting hug, holding him, just as Mum use to do.

In the corner I can see James, Albus, Fred (Uncle George and Aunt Angelina's son), and Dominique (Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's daughter) speaking amongst themselves. Dominique is clearly crying the hardest, but they all have tears in their eyes as they remember my Mum. All of them, but Dom, are major pranksters, always filled with jokes and laughs, yet now their faces seem so far away from that.

Uncle Percy, Aunt Audrey, Molly, and Lucy are together, their faces soaked in tears. I always thought them a bit strange, but they are family and I love them just the same.

Teddy Lupin is holding his girlfriend, my cousin, Victorie, comforting her as he gently rocks back and forth. Her tears are muffled by his shirt, as his own face has gloom all over it.

Uncle Bill, Aunt Fleur, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Fred, Aunt Angelina, Grandmum Weasley, and Grandfather Weasley are all huddled together, their eyes each mirroring the tears we all share. They have all known my mum for an extremely long time and she has been family to them since the very beginning.

I'm in a room full of so many people, yet I stand alone. I want to be alone. Coming from such a large family, I treasure my moments with them almost as much as I treasure my tim alone. Don't get me wrong, I love them all, but it can be tiring being around them all of them time and yet, there's something more than that. It's just I feel so different than them all, like I don't belong. The Weasley family members are either quidditch fanatics or perfect prefects, and yet I don't really fit there. Sure I'm smart, like my mum; I'm a bookworm, like her and I love school. I'm not a prefect though, like she was. I can only assume the professors did not think I was stable enough to handle it.

I walk over to my Mum's portrait and cannot help but stare at her beautiful face. I can't believe she is gone. She just left us so quickly. Nobody saw her death coming. It was just an accident. All an accident. A little accident, that changed all of our lives completely.

We were in muggle London, her, Dad, Hugo, and I, walking through the streets, enjoying our summer vacation from school, when some muggle car comes out of no where. She and I had been the closest to the street, yet with her quick thinking she knew to push me away, towards Hugo and Dad, before the car came and took her away from us.

That car took the most wonderful person away from my life and I will never get her back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man that I have hardly ever seen before. He looks so familiar and I realize I must have seen him by the Hogwarts Express. He's in his late thirties, probably around my Mum's age, with white blonde hair, no white from his age. He is tall and lean with a pointed face. I recognize him, I know for sure, but I just cannot put my finger on who he could possibly be. Perhaps the parent of one of my cousin's friends? Or the parent of one of my classmates? I don't know. I cannot be sure..

I find it odd that he is here, but no one else seems to notice him among the chaos of sadness in the room. With his white blonde hair, he stands out like a sore thumb in a sea of red haired individuals. Perhaps he went to school with my Mum and Dad, Uncle Harry, and Aunt Ginny. Perhaps he was in Gryffindor with them, or maybe just a classmate. Maybe he s a quidditch rival of my Dad's or a study buddy of my Mum's. Or maybe he is none of that and just another admirer of the Golden Trio.

I see him scanning the room, though I don't know whatever for. He seems so lost and out of place, like an oven in the bedroom. What is he looking for? Who is he seeking? Perhaps an old friend? A classmate? Someone he knew from so long ago?

His eyes seem to connect with mine and we stand here staring at each other for what seems like a lifetime. He isn't smiling; he has a look of sadness and pain on his face. It is only then, when our eyes are on one another, that I, Rose D. Weasley, realize his eyes are grey with a few specks of blue.

His eyes are exactly like mine.

**So what do you think of the story so far? I hope you like it and please please please leave me a review to tell me what you think about it. I love when you guys leave me reviews and they really help me when I write. The next chapter will probably be out before the week is over, but I'm not positive on that one. I'll try my best. Is it too obvious who the man is that Rose sees? And is it too obvious where I may (or may not) be going with this?**

Thanks,  
RAB

Don't forget to leave me a review...! The more reviews I get, the faster I'll have the next chapter up.

Chapter Updated: Thursday, June 19th, 2008.


	2. Grey Eyes

**Hey guys, here is chapter two (Grey Eyes) of my new fic (Sweetest Lies). I really hope you like it and I would also really appreciate it if you would leave me a review to tell me your thoughts on it. I am really excited about writing it. I will probably try to write up a couple of these chapters before switching back and forth between my story Trapped and this story; we'll see how it all goes.**

**Thanks,  
RAB**

_Previous Chapter:_

_His eyes seem to connect with mine and we stand here staring at each other for what seems like a lifetime. He isn't smiling; he has a look of sadness and pain on his face. It is only then, when our eyes are on one another, that I, Rose D. Weasley, realize his eyes are grey with a few specks of blue._

_His eyes are exactly like mine._

**And now I present to you the next chapter of my Next Generation fan fic... (Hope you like it and please please please leave me a review. Thanks in advance!)**

S w e e t . L i e s

C H A P T E R . T W O : G R E Y . E Y E S

_I was five years old. Mum was upstairs putting my three year old brother, Hugo, to bed. The sun was setting outside, a mixture of red, purple, pink, and blue, but it was not dark out yet. The house itself was mostly dark inside, except for a few lights on, scattered about the house. Everything was quiet and peaceful, making me feel at ease and safe. I could smell the chocolate chip cookies my mum had made on a few hours ago after I scraped my knee on the cement walkway outside of our three-story brick house._

_Dad and I were in the beige living room, as he began teaching me how to play chess. I was sitting on his lap as I reached forward to pick up one of the white pieces; the queen. He was telling me how the queen was the most powerful piece on the entire board._

_"She's more power... powerfu... powerful than the king?" I asked him, confused. My voice struggled with the words slightly as I tried to comprehend what they all meant. My five year old mind had trouble understanding why a queen would be greater and more 'powerful' than a king. Aren't kings supposed to be the one's who rule over everyone else in all of my fairy tales?_

_"Oh yes," he answered me. His hand stroked my hair, playing with my curls before he continued. "The queen can move as many spaces as she wants to the front, back, right, left, and diagonal, yet the king can only move one space in any of those directions," he explained to me. He continued to play with my hair, combing through my curls with his long freckled fingers. "Your hair looks so much like your mother's, but your hair is lighter," he said, changing the subject completely._

_"But it's not red," I stated, turning my head to look at him. My voice said the obvious as my grey eyes met his sparkling hazel ones. For an instant all I could do was stare at the brown, greenish color swirling in his orbs._

_"Well no," he looked at me confused. "Your mum doesn't have red hair." He doesn't understand my unhappiness with my lack of red hair and thus my lack of fitting in with the rest of the family._

_"But you do and Hugo does and Aunt Ginny does and Uncle Fred does and Uncle Percy does and Uncle Charlie does and Uncle Bill does and Grandmum does and..." my five year old self explained to him, before he cut me off._

_"Yes, they all do, but you take after your mum. I imagine you look almost exactly like she did when she was your age." I looked at him, again, confused; I cannot imagine my mum at my age; she seemed so much older than me; perhaps five times my age._

_"My eyes don't look like her's," I insist, using my two pointer fingers to point to my two stormy grey eyes._

_"No, your eyes are a gorgeous grey."_

_"My eyes don't look like your's either."_

_"No Rosie, they don't." My father's voice revealed how confused he is by my statements and my curiosity, though his voice remains kind and humerous._

_"But where did they come from?" I asked, my confusion evident in my voice as I reach up to touch his cheek, near his own eyes._

_"They come from an angel."_

"Rose, you okay?" a questioning voice awakens me from my thoughts. My eyes are still locked with the man's across the room as the male voice interrupts my concentration. I try to make sure I hide my annoyance as I attempt to recall my latest thoughts. Realizing I cannot recall my latest stream of thoughts, I give in to the voice behind me.

I look around me and see that my cousin, Albus, is standing next to me, looking at me with concern very evident on his rectangular face. "I'm fine," I assure him, as I reach up to play with my curly hair, a nervous habit of mine. Of course I'm not fine; I'm at my mother's funeral. Who would be fine in a situation like this? I'm dying inside; I'm dying knowing that I will never be able to run home to my Mum for comfort.

"No you aren't," he argues. He knows me so well that it scares me sometimes. Often times he feels more like my brother, a twin brother, than my cousin. With us being the same age, we were always close. Albus would be the cousin I played with when James had called me a "bookworm"; Albus and I would go swimming, play quidditch, and talk about everything from the weather to the latest Ministry scandal.

I glance back over at the grey eyed man for an instant and see him once again scanning the room, before I move my focus back to Albus. The man has yet to move a single millimeter. "Al..." I begin, unsure of whether or not I should even bother to ask him this. He may not know the answer. He may think it odd that I am asking him this. He may laugh at my silly mistake. He may...

"Yeah Rosie?" he asks, once again interrupting my silly train of thoughts. He takes a small step towards me and ruffles up his already messy midnight black hair that he has clearly inherited from his well known father.

Oh what the heck; I might as well just ask him. What harm could it possibly do? Carefully, I nod my head towards the grey eyed man I had been staring at, my thick hair gently flying around my head. "Who's that?" I ask him. My voice is quiet and curious as a lion.

He looks in the direction of my nod, a sense of unsureness on his lightly tan face, before he looks back over at me. "You don't know who that is?" he says, bluntly, his green eyes alive as he continuously looks back in forth between myself and the person in question.

I shake my head, softly, 'no'. "Should I?" I ask, my fingers still playing with my hair, happy to be thinking about something besides my mum and the quiet funeral taking place around me.

He looks at me strangely, his bold green eyes on my grey ones, though I am not looking at him back. "That's Scorpius Malfoy's dad; Draco I think his name is. He went to school with our parents. They hated each other." His last sentence seems so blunt and cold that it shocks me. The coldness and hate is so unlike my cousin, who typically is filled with humor and kindness.

"Oh," I mutter so quietly that I don't think he hears me. What is a man who hates my father and probably my mother and the rest of the family doing here? Why would he even bother coming to my Mum's funeral? Why would he even care enough to pay respects to her?

"I wonder what he is doing here," Albus voices my thoughts as he glares once again at the grey eyed man I now know as Draco Malfoy. "I can't imagine your dad would be too thrilled if he knew Malfoy was here," Albus states his voice somewhere between coldness and laughing at the thought.

"He seems so lost, like he is looking around for something. I don't think he has moved for at least five minutes," I explain to my cousin. I move my hands to straighten out my dark dress robes, wiping the invisible dirt off of them. Part of me really wants to go over and talk to Mr. Malfoy, find out why he is here at my mum's funeral, find out why my dad hates him so much, and find out why our eyes look exactly the same. Yet the other part of knows that I shouldn't; that if I do, my family, especially my dad, would not be too happy about it.

"Probably trying to find a muggle born or so called 'blood traitor' to go bother," Albus says in a pestered voice. I look over at him and only just realize the height difference between us. His six foot two frame towers over my five foot five self. I knew he was tall, but not THAT tall. Wasn't it only a few years ago that I was taller than him? It must have been third year where he was three whole inches shorter than me.

"Probably," I echo him, though not really listening to him. He's so skinny and has little muscle at all on his slender body, perfect for his quidditch position of seeker. His build reminds me of my father's, making me wonder if he got his build from Aunt Ginny. Then again, probably not; it is much more likely he got it from his father, Uncle Harry, for after all Aunt Ginny is smaller and more muscular.

"We should tell your dad," he remarks, still holding a glare at the man in question, his emerald green eyes filled with a hate that is so unknown to me. Once again I am shocked by the glare on Albus' face and hardly comprehending the soft words coming out of his large mouth.

I look around the room and see my dad has not even noticed the newest visitor in the room as he continues his discussion with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. I watch him wipe his hazel eyes as he nods at something my aunt says. Shifting my gaze back to the grey eyed man I observe him staring at the portrait of my mother, his eyes holding a hint of well hidden sadness in them, as he looks at mum's curly dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes.

"We should tell my... wait! What?" I snap my head away from the direction of Mr. Malfoy and looked over at my cousin.

He looks at me strangely as he realizes I have not been paying much attention to what he is saying. "We should tell your dad," he repeats slowly. He folds his hands across his chest and waits for some kind of reaction from me.

"Why would we do that?" I ask him, my words rushed, my cheeks flushed. My mind wanders back to my mum as I remember why we are all here, to celebrate her life. Mum wouldn't want Dad to get all angry over pretty much nothing; there is no need to tell him about the grey eyed man.

"Why wouldn't we?" he counters, his eyes looking at my pale face; my own eyes watching the man of our conversation.

"Why wouldn't we what?" a voice interrupts our talk. It's a male voice a little deeper than Albus'. The normal fun and laughter of his voice is gone, forcing me to once again think of the purpose of this gathering; my mother is gone. Gone forever. And she is never coming back to us again.

I say nothing, not even bothering to look at the new addition to our group, my older cousin, James. Albus notices my silence and turns his attention to his older brother. "I was asking Rosie why we would not inform her father of Mr. Malfoy's presence here, where he is clearly unwanted," his voice is stronger and more powerful than I have heard him speak in quite some time, especially when he is talking with his older brother.

James furrows his eyebrows as I watch him out of the corner of my grey eyes search for Mr. Malfoy. He eventually follows my gaze to see him near the entrance of the room, still staring at my mother's portrait. "Why is he here?" James asks, his voice matching the coldness of his younger brother's.

Tearing my gaze from Mr. Malfoy, I look over at James. Sensing my eyes, James shifts his own gaze at Mr. Malfoy to my own eyes. His hazel eyes soften as he looks at me, realizing he is no longer staring at a prejudice man, but rather a grieving, young girl who has just lost her mother. He steps closer to me and pulls me into a much needed hug. "Oh Rosie," he mumbles into my curly, light brown hair, his arms wrap around my shoulders as he rubs my upper back, soothingly.

"Shouldn't we go tell..." Albus begins, but quickly stops when he sees my dad look angrily at Mr. Malfoy, before he stomps over to him.

Dad's face is as red as his hair, his fists clenched, and his breathing is hard. His hazel eyes are on fire as he glares at the man who has caused him and his friends so much trouble at school, all of those years ago. All those names Mr. Malfoy called my dad, my mum, my uncle, and everyone they knew come to my father's mind as he approaches the platinum blond with those grey eyes.

The stare at each other, their faces inches from each other. They appear to be about the same height, though Dad might be a half an inch or so taller. Mr. Malfoy looks more muscular, however, as they both say nothing for several, long seconds. Then their lips begin to move and I see my Dad speak, probably asking Mr. Malfoy why on earth he is here at all, though I cannot hear them.

I notice James still has his arm around me, as if he is afraid I will go over and see what is going on between my father and the man he hates. I try to shrug him off, but he won't let me and only tightens his protective grip. Albus stands on the other side of me, his feet frozen in place like someone put a curse on him.

"I DON'T CARE. GET OUT OF HERE," my father all of a sudden shouts, attracting the attention of the entire room of guests. Dad looks shocked by the loudness of his voice, but his gaze of hatred is not fazed as he looks upon Mr. Malfoy with uttermost disgust.

Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry quickly race over to the two older men to act as referees between the two enemies. I can see Uncle Harry's mouth moving, though I cannot hear him speak the words flowing past his teeth and out of his mouth.

All of a sudden I see Mr. Malfoy's grey eyes shift from my father to me. He looks at me, observing, as if he knows me and everything about me, almost like we were old friends from 'way back in the day.' He eyes Albus and James, with is arm tightly around me paralyzing my movement, noting how they look like two body guards.

I notice my father sees that Mr. Malfoy no longer is looking at him and he follows his enemy's gaze until his eyes settle on me. His anger flares up as he steps forward and punches Mr. Malfoy right in the nose.

"RONALD WEASLEY," I hear my Grandmum yell loudly at her youngest son's barbaric behavior.

The entire room is in shock for a mere instant before voices fill up the whole room, no doubt gossiping. I can hear a reporter's camera snap a picture as Uncle Harry pulls my father back away from Mr. Malfoy. Aunt Ginny looks angrier than I have ever seen her before and believe me, I have seen her temper... she does have two trouble making sons after all.

Mr. Malfoy looks enraged as blood drips out of his pale nose. He looks as though he is going to punch my dad, but stops, and lets his clenched hand fall back down to his side. His mouth opens and he speaks a few words, but once again I am too far away to hear them. I try to pull out of James' tight grip to go over to my father, but James only holds me tighter. I have to get to my father; I have to be with him. He needs me now; he needs me more than ever now that... now that mum is... is gone.

"No," James speaks softly to me. Fresh tears roll down my cheeks as I think in horror of how my mum would react to such an event at her own funeral. This all should not be happening; not today, not on this day that we are grieving her death. She doesn't deserve to have some childish fight take places at her funeral.

I know James has heard my tears as he pulls me into another hug, his shoulder blocking my view of the events taking place between Mr. Malfoy and my father. I sob louder as I wonder if he cares how wet I am getting his best, black dress robes.

I doubt he does care; he seems much more occupied with comforting me than caring whether or not some silly clothes get a little wet.

When he finally releases me from the hug and my sobs have stopped, I notice that Mr. Malfoy has gone and the wake is almost back to normal. My father is coming towards me, to offer me more comfort.

"Rosie," he whispers when he reaches me, as he pulls me into a tight hug.

"Daddy," I answer back. "What was... what was going... going on?" My voice is shaky and soft as I pull away from him.

I can tell he doesn't know how to answer me, like he is afraid of telling me the truth. I am sixteen though, doesn't he think I can handle it?

"Nothing Sweetie," he tells me. "That man simply does not belong here."

I nod my head, pretending I actually understand. I don't of course, but now is neither the time nor place to get on my father's case. Besides, I can always ask Aunt Ginny about it all later. Aunt Ginny would tell me what was happening over there between my father and Mr. Malfoy.

Later that night, when I went to sleep, I could not help but envision a certain pair of grey eyes with a few specks of blue in them as I feel asleep.

_My eyes. My grey eyes._

**And thus the end of chapter two.**

**I hope you liked the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Rose is obviously struggling with her mother's death and the mystery behind the eyes. I spent more time writing this chapter then most all other chapters I have ever written, so I hope that shows. The next update shouldn't take too long, but I'm not positive when it will be up. In the next week if I am lucky. I really hope you guys review the story and let me know your thoughts on it. I'll accept anything you tell me; whether you are simply saying "it's okay" or giving me a wonderfully long review telling me everything that is wrong with my story. Any feedback is helpful.**

**Thanks in advanced (hopefully)**

**Happy Reading,**

**RAB**


	3. Hidden in the Attic

**Hey guys! Here is chapter three of my newest story (a Next gen fic), Sweetest Lies. Thank you so much for the reviews, its nice to know that at least one person likes my story. I'm getting this chapter out a lot faster than I expected to, so I am pretty darn happy about that. I know this story may even seem a little rushed, but the main focus of the story is NOT what the lie is, but how the lies affect Rose Weasley's life. Also, I don't own anything but the plot, characters you don't recognize whatever. In addition anything you do recognize is J K Rowling, OR from the movie, ****The Knight's Tale.**

Thanks and happy reading!

RAB

_Previous chapter:_

__

I nod my head, pretending I actually understand. I don't of course, but now is neither the time nor place to get on my father's case. Besides, I can always ask Aunt Ginny about it all later. Aunt Ginny would tell me what was happening over there between my father and Mr. Malfoy.

Later that night, when I went to sleep, I could not help but envision a certain pair of grey eyes with a few specks of blue in them as I feel asleep.

My eyes. My grey eyes.

**And... now on to the next chapter of my story... hope you like it : )**

* * *

S W E E T E S T . L I E S

C H A P T E R . T H R E E : H I D D E N . I N . T H E . A T T I C

Summer sunlight pours through my light blue, thin curtains as I awake to the sounds of baby birds chirping and a light warm breeze blowing the leaves on the the trees, creating a soothing rattling sound. A yawn escapes my small mouth as I rub my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the sudden bright light. I feel slightly light headed as I sit up, but it quickly passes, leaving nearly as fast as it came. I throw off my covers, quickly realizing how hot the August air really is.

August? Was it really August all ready?

Mum was only killed a week ago; the funeral was five days ago, yet it seems like it was really just yesterday. Nothing has really happened this past week; mostly just our extended family came to spend time with us-- everyone of course had tears in their eyes the entire time.

Now the house seems so empty, so big.

I look over at the clock on my bedside table and see that it is only five after eight in the morning. No doubt that I am the only one awake at this time in our entire house. Hugo will not be up until, at the earliest, 11:30 but really probably not until closer to one o'clock in the afternoon; at this point Dad will be in bed until at least 10:00 AM, leaving the entire house to my enjoyment for two whole hours.

All of a sudden I hear the faint sound of buzzing. Whipping my head around as fast as I can, I search my room for the source, before I lay my eyes on a very large, black and yellow stripped bee. If there is one thing I am afraid of more than anything else in the world, its bees. I can handle snakes (unlike Hugo), spiders (unlike Dad), and cockroaches (unlike Mum could...), but I cannot possibly stand bees. There is something about them that makes me cower in fear.

My fear of bees might have something to do with my cousin, Fred, putting honey in my hair when I was five. Within two minutes of applying it I had at least eight bees flying around my head. I got stung five times, all of which were either on my head or my neck.

Anyhow, back to the problem at hand: the extremely large, hideous bee that is currently flying and buzzing around my formerly peaceful room. Finally I come to my senses; I reach into the drawer of my beside table and fumble around for my wand, never once taking my eyes off the bee.

My hand comes in contact with something thin and rough. I move it aside until I find my wand, 9 inches long, made of hawthorne, with a unicorn core, and pull it out. Thrusting it at the bee now resting on my willow desk, I shout a spell to banish it outside my open window.

I sigh, thankful that the bee is gone, as I remember the thin and rough item I had felt before. Reaching over, I look inside of my drawer to find the necklace I had been given three days previous at the reading of my mum's will.

The necklace had a relatively long chain, made of gold, with a key hanging off the end of it. The key was rather small; much smaller than a key typically used for a house or even for the wizarding bank. Not knowing what else to do with it, I slip the chain around my neck and head to the kitchen to eat something for breakfast.

In the kitchen I manage to find a couple of blueberry muffins to munch on while I read the Daily Prophet. Oh wow. Will you look at that: three more articles about my mum, not including another one about the fight between my dad and Mr. Malfoy at her funeral five whole freaking days okay. Will they ever leave us alone?

No. Probably not.

Stupid newspaper. Stupid photographers. Stupid reporters.

Realizing I had nothing better to do, I decide to go up to the attic and start getting together my school supplies. Naturally I had finished my homework by the first week in July and had since then moved it all up to the attic (with the exception of a few of my favorite book for some good late night reading), so that it would all be out of the way. We had gone shopping for the new supplies we would need for mine and Hugo's upcoming school year the die Mum had died.

As I walk into the hot, dirty, yet organized (Mum always liked this in perfect order) attic, I scan the room for the box with my school things in it. Dad had carried it up here for me and I'm not really positive where he placed, so I look through some of the boxes.

The first box I come to looks a little worn. Well "little" might be the understatement of the century... Slowly I pull back the brown, cardboard flaps to find reveal the box is filled to the top. I sift through it carefully but I quickly realize that this wasn't the box I was looking for. I'm about to move on and search through another box when something catches my eye: a picture of my mum.

Delicately I pull out the framed picture as tears escape down my flushed cheeks. It is a picture of her when she was at school with Uncle Harry and Dad. The three of them are in their school uniforms just outside of the school. It was definitely from either there first or second year at Hogwarts. They are laughing and smiling, not realizing the troubles the would face in their upcoming years at Hogwarts and my mum's young, tragic death.

Putting the picture aside, I see my mum's old uniforms and school books, a photo album with various pictures of the "golden trio", her old cauldron, and a beautiful box. I sit on the wooden floor, despite it being so uncomfortable, and pull the red and gold box onto my lap. It wasn't by any means large, about as tall as a typical shoe box but not as long. Though it was a little heavier than I imagined it to be, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

I try to open it, but I notice it has a lock. Using my wand I say the unlocking charm, but to my surprise it doesn't work.

What can my mum possibly have that she feels the need to lock away in a box? It's fairly heavy, so it's not like it is empty or anything. The only people who would possibly go up here and look in her box would be Hugo, Dad, or I, so she really shouldn't have anything to hide from us. I wonder where she would keep the key for the box. If she didn't want Dad to go through it then she probably wouldn't hide the key in her room.

The box is trimmed in gold and is a little rusty, so the key would probably be the same. The key would have to be kind of small... smaller than a house key most likely and it would...

Wait a minute.

A gold key, smaller than a house key, that belonged to my mum.

I speedily pull the necklace out from under my shirt and look at it. It looks like it would be a perfect fit. I take the necklace off and quickly put the key into the lock, before gently turning. With a soft click the lid is able to be opened.

My mouth drops open as I realize what is inside. There are at least twenty, maybe thirty letters, all of them addressed with a neat, cursive handwriting to "My Dearest Hermione." If possible, my mouth drops even more when I realize who all of them are from... "All my love, Draco."

DRACO? DRACO MALFOY?

My mum... my mother... the woman who raised me and is currently married to my dad is writing love letters to Draco Malfoy?! Well, WROTE love letters... but still...

What the heck?

When the heck was she writing these letters?

I quickly grab a couple and search for the dates...

_April 14th, 2005_

_August 7th, 2005_

_September 7th, 2005_

_October 1st, 2005_

What? Those all happened the year before I was born, well less than a year before I was born for some of the letters. I was born on June 7th, 2006...

What the heck was my mum doing writing letters to Mr. Malfoy then... around the time I would have been... oh my gosh. My mum was writing letters to Mr. Malfoy around the time I was conceived...! Nine months before I was born would be... hang on, I'm not the best at math... June, May, April, March, February, January, December, November, October.. which means I would have been conceived in the beginning of September most likely.

I looking through the letters again and I realize that the last one is dated _November 30th, 2005..._

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_ I love you with all my heart. My heart broke into a thousand pieces when I read that you wanted to end out relationship. I cannot help the tears I shed as I know my life will never feel complete again without seeing your beautiful, chocolate brown eyes ever again. I know I will miss the way you let out a giggle every time my finger runs down your back. I'll miss you the way the sun misses the flower; like the sun misses the flower in the depths of winter. Instead of beauty to direct its light to, the heart hardens like the frozen world your absence as banished me too. It is strange to think, I haven't seen you in a month. I have seen the new moon, but not you. I have seen the sunsets and sunrises, but nothing of your beautiful face. The pieces of my broken heart are so small that they could be passed through the tip of my wand. But hope guides me, that is what gets me through the days and nights. The hope that after you're gone from my sight, it will not be the last time that I look upon you._

_With all my love,_

_Draco._

Wait.. what? How was my mum in love with one man and married to another? How could she have an affair? How can she do that to Dad? How could she do this to her children... well future children?

She wanted to tell me this. She wanted me to know. She gave me the key to the lock... she knew I would be curious enough to see what the key belonged to. But why would she want to tell me that she was cheating on Dad? Why would she even cheat on Dad?

Suddenly, I let out a squeak and quickly pull my hand away from the box. Dripping down my pointer finger on my right hand is a warm, crimson liquid... blood. After sucking my finger to stop the blood flow of my paper cut, I sift through the box for the source.

Gently I pull out a picture that had caused a mere instant of pain; a picture of mum and Mr. Malfoy. They look like they have been out of Hogwarts for a couple of years... perhaps they are in their early twenties, but still they are fairly young. Mr. Malfoy stands behind my mum, his hand on her shoulder as they smile at the camera. I look closely and I can see a wedding band on my mum's left hand; she was already married to Dad when this picture was taken.

How long did this whole thing go on? How could Dad never notice? How could Mum do this? And why is she telling me all of this?

I look back down at the picture in my hand and see Mr. Malfoy's grey eyes; my grey eyes.

Thoughts rush through my head; I don't look like the Weasleys; I don't have red hair, my hair is a very evident light brown... like a mixture of a blonde and mum's dark brown hair; I have my mum's curls, her chin, her ears, her build; I don't look like my Dad or any of my relatives; I have Mr. Malfoy's grey eyes; the affair was happening 9 months before I was born...

Mum wanted me to see all of this... she wanted to tell me my father is Draco Malfoy, not Ronald Weasley...

She lied to me all her life; I'm not a Weasley...

I need to talk to Aunt Ginny, my mum's best friend. Surely she would no everything about this, right?

Quickly I grab the box, close the lid, and run out of the attic, where the box had been so carelessly hidden, and to one of the fireplaces. Tossing some of the green, dust powder in, I step into our fireplace and shout "Potter Manor" being careful to pronounce it as clearly as possible. Dad told me about a time when Uncle Harry ended up completely in the wrong place after trying to use floo the first time.

A strange sensation comes over me as I feel myself turning, before coming to a sudden stop.

"What the heck? Rose? What are you doing here this early? Why are you even up?" I hear Albus ask in a tired voice. I look around and see that he is laying on the couch, most likely doing some of his summer homework, though he probably feel asleep doing it. "It is only 9:15 in the morning."

Normally I would comment on how I cannot believe he is up this early, but I have more important things on my mind. "Where is Aunt Ginny? Where is your mum?" I ask, my voice is rushed as I am desperate to talk to her and get some answers.

He looks confused, but tells me, "she is in the kitchen."

Without saying another word, I run as fast as I can to my destination, before spotting Aunt Ginny making pancakes in the kitchen, alone. I walk up to her and thrust the box into her hands.

"Did you know?" I ask, my voice sounding more forceful and mean than I meant it to. I fight back the tears that are threatening to fall from my steel colored eyes as I await her answer.

She looks at me, unsure, before glancing down at the box. She stares at the box like it is poisonous and infected. Carefully she puts it on the table, before opening of the lid. On the top is the picture of Mum and Mr. Malfoy I had just recently been looking at, followed by all of those haunting love letters. She looks back and forth between me and the box, not knowing what to say. "Yes," she whispers, so softly I can barely hear her. "Yes, I knew."

What? Even Aunt Ginny knew? And neither of them felt the need to tell me? "He's my father isn't he. My real father." It wasn't a question.

Once again she looks in shock, like she cannot possibly believe that I have figured it out already. "Your mom never actually told me, but I suspected as much." Once again her voice is soft and small. "I doubt she was sure herself until you were born and she saw your eyes, his eyes. Rose..."

I cut her off. "Why? Did she not think she should tell me something like this?? It is kind of a big deal you know! How could she do this to Dad? How could she do this to me?" My voice is shaky as the tears drip down my face as I release my anger and frustration on my favorite aunt.

Aunt Ginny looks so sympathetic, so sorry as she watches me. She pulls me into a hug and whispers into my ear, trying her hardest to comfort me, "Rosie, she loved Ron, but she had been going through a rough time with him and something just sparked between her and Draco. I know she loved Draco and Draco did love her. She knew she had to end it when she found out she was pregnant. At first she thought maybe, maybe it would be Ron's child, but when she saw your grey eyes, she knew, she knew you were Draco's. Draco never knew you were his; he really thought you were Ron's. Rose, she wanted you to be happy and she didn't think you could be if she told you, but I guess in the end she wanted you to know," she gestures towards the key that I had replaced around my neck.

"Draco's own wife had gotten pregnant as well and I think he eventually figured that Hermione was right, they had to end their fling, and go back to their spouses. I don't think Hermione was ever truly as happy again," her voices drifts off for a second, before she continues. "Look Rose, I love your father and I know Hermione did as well, but she was in love with Draco, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. Believe me, she hadn't wanted to fall in love with him... it just happened. Rose we can't control who we love. I myself was in love with Harry since the moment I laid eyes on him; He didn't tell me he liked me back until my fifth year at Hogwarts..." her voice trails off again as she remembers her memories.

"My whole life... my whole life is filled with lies... lies," I whisper into her shoulder as I begin to sob uncontrollably. Have I really just been living in one big lie.

"Mum, what's for..." the voice of Albus' stops as he sees the sight of me and his mum. "Mum what's going on? Rose what's the matter?" he asks, when he sees the tears dripping down my face. He starts to walk towards us, but Aunt Ginny puts up a soft, white hand to stop him.

"Al, honey, could you give us a few more minutes please?" Aunt Ginny asks Albus, sweetly, her voice louder and little more urgent than she had spoken to me.

Albus gives us one last look, before nodding his head, and turning around to leave. His footsteps grew softer as he leaves the kitchen.

"Aunt Ginny? What am I suppose to do? I can't honestly look at anyone in this family again the same way, especially not Dad, knowing that none of them are really my family; that you aren't really my family."

"Rosie, honey, of course we are your family; we're always be your family, and your dad is your dad; he is the one you raised you," Aunt Ginny comforts me, her long, thin fingers stroking my wavy hair, just like my mum had done when I was little.

"But what do I do?" I ask, my voice ready to break.

She says nothing for a second, unsure herself, before she tells me, "well, I suppose you have two options; ignore all of this and realize we love you Rose and you are part of our family, or I guess go and confront Draco." Her voice is troubled and soft.

I know she wants me to ignore it all. I know she doesn't want me to leave and speak to Mr. Malfoy. I know she doesn't want Dad to ever find out what his deceased wife has done. But she knows I won't ignore it; she knows I will go and speak to Mr. Malfoy; and she knows Dad... um... Ron, is going to find out about all of this and it breaks her heart.

She pulls me into a comforting hug; I seem to be getting a lot of those recently.

"I think I need to talk with Mr. Malfoy, uh, my real father," I whisper so quietly I'm not even sure she hears me. But as I feel a warm tear drip down her face and fall into my curly hair, _I know she heard me._

**Yeah!! THREE chapters! This is exciting!! Like I said before, the majority (but not ALL) of the letter to Hermione, from Draco, is taken from the movie "The Knight's Tale". Sorry, but my specialty is not love letters... The story is really coming along quickly and despite the fact it seems rush, I'm trying to get to the good parts and my main focus, dealing with the after effects of her mother's lies. Please please please leave me a review letting me know what you think of the story so far; I'd really appreciate it. The next chapter will involve a little more Draco Malfoy, so I must say I am pretty excited about that. Hopefully the chapter will be out within the week, but I'll probably try to write up the next chapter of my other fic, TRAPPED, so it may not be up for closer to two weeks. We will have to see.**

Thanks for reading (and leave a review to make my day),

RAB


	4. Conformations

**Hey guys!! I'm pretty glad to say that my updates have been pretty regular (like every two days or so...) Thank you so much to those who have all ready reviewed my story; I'm so glad to hear you like it. In my opinion the story is only getting more interesting (plot wise, though I hope overall it is more interesting as well.) I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far and any suggestions you may have for me; I thrive on you all's opinions.**

_Previous Chapter:_

_She says nothing for a second, unsure herself, before she tells me, "well, I suppose you have two options; ignore all of this and realize we love you Rose and you are part of our family, or I guess go and confront Draco." Her voice is troubled and soft._

_I know she wants me all to ignore it. I know she doesn't want me to leave and speak to Mr. Malfoy. I know she doesn't want Dad to ever find out what his deceased wife as done. But she knows I won't ignore it; she knows I will go and speak to Mr. Malfoy; and she knows Dad... um... Ron, is going to find out about all of this and it breaks her heart._

_"I think I need to talk with Mr. Malfoy, uh, my real father," I whisper so quietly I'm not even sure she hears me. But as I feel a warm tear drip down her face and fall into my curly hair, I know she heard me._

**And now I give you the next chapter of my story... hope you love it!**

S W E E T E S T . L I E S

C H A P T E R . F O U R : C O N F O R M A T I O N S

Pulling away from my aunt, who just so happens to be the same height as me, I stare into her hazel eyes, waiting patiently for some kind of a reaction. I take a big breath, trying to relax myself and prepare for what I am about to go and do.

I mean really, how does one go about this? Does he even have a clue? Did he ever think of the possibility that I was his child? Did he ever do the math? Did Draco whatever-his-middle-name-is Malfoy ever considered the possibility he might have gotten my mum pregnant during the affair? Didn't they use birth control, or a condom, or SOMETHING?

Oh crap. If they did I wouldn't even be born.

Aunt Ginny nods her head, silently telling me 'you know you have to do it.'

How is he going to react? Or will he just deny it?

Would he really do that? Throw me out of his house and tell me that I am not really his daughter and he wants nothing to do with me? What about his wife? Oh no. What is she going to say? What is she going to say when she finds out that my mum slept with her husband while they were married? And what about my dad? Well, I guess I mean Ron... What is Ron going to say? Is he going to turn me away too? Will both my real dad and Ron decide that they want nothing to do with me? Then what? Where do I go from there?

Who would I live with if no one wants me? None of Ron's brothers, sister, or parents would take me in if they found out I really wasn't Ron's daughter, would they? And mum doesn't have any siblings to take me in. Mum's parents are too old to be able to care for a sixteen year old.

Then what? What do I do?

I'm not good alone. It just doesn't work for me.

What if I never told anyone? Surely Aunt Ginny would not say anything if I asked her to keep quiet, right? Nobody has to know. We could all go back to our quiet live and pretend everything is normal.

Though it won't be normal.

It will never be normal again.

Mum is gone.

I know the man I thought to be my father really isn't.

Even worse, I'm related to the sworn enemy of my entire family: Draco Malfoy.

How can life ever be normal again.

"Rose, sweetie," my Aunt's exhausted voice calls to me, tearing me away from my frightening thoughts.

"Yes, Aunt Ginny?" I ask her, as I play with my hair; twirling my light brown locks around my pointer finger.

"Are you ready? Do you want me to go with you? Do you want to talk about it before you go? Are you sure you want to do this? Do you want to talk to your father... err, I mean Ron, first? Or your brother? Or one of your cousins? Do you want me to go talk to Draco first? Do you want to stay for breakfast and then go? Do you..." she rambles on and on, displaying her worry in her voice.

I cut her off, knowing that her questions will only make this harder for both of us. "No, I don't need breakfast, or for you to come, or to talk to my fath... I mean Ron, or anyone else. This is something I need to do on my own and this is something I need to do now. This is between me and my real father," I tell her, trying to sound more confident and determined than I really feel.

"How are you going to get there, Sweetie?" my Aunt asks me. Perhaps she isn't really my real father's sister, but she will always be my aunt; my favorite aunt at that.

"I don't know; I haven't really thought about it yet. I don't know how to get there, so brooms are out of the question," I provide her.

"What about floo?" my aunt suggests. Her red hair lies straight down her back as she waits for me to answer her.

"Wouldn't it be rather rude for me to all of a sudden appear in the living room of someone I hardly know, even if he is my father...?" I retort her suggestion.

"And you can't apparate yet, because you are not of age. Would you like to side-along apparate with me? I can leave right after I drop you off at the doorstep if you would like? But that way you are not being 'rude'" my aunt offers me.

"Yeah, I guess that could work. But you'll leave as soon as you drop me off, right? I'm sorry if I seem like I am being selfish or mean or something, but this really is something that I have to do by myself," I try to explain, my voice slightly rushed and pathetic.

"Of course, Rosie. Of course I understand," Aunt Ginny assures me. She takes a deep breath before asking, "are you ready now?"

I don't say anything for a few seconds, before I slowly nod my head, words running through my confused mind as I try to settle on what would be the best way to inform a man I don't even know that he has a daughter he never knew about; and that daughter is me.

I can barely feel her as she lightly grabs my arm, rubbing it soothingly. I grab the box the revealed to me my mother's lies, before we disappear from the Potter's kitchen.

I feel slightly sick as we suddenly appear with a crack on the doorstep of an overly large mansion.

Aunt Ginny pulls me once again into a tight hug, whispering, "everything is going to work out fine," before she leaves, allowing me to do what I have come here to do.

Staring up at the large house before me, I stare at the enchanting marble porch, white brick building, and large front doors. The house appears to be at least three stories, though it is hard to tell from where I am standing.

My stomach tightens with nerves as I realize this is going to be harder than I thought. Taking a deep breath, I reach forward, and press the button, ringing the doorbell and alerting the entire house of my presence.

I manage to get in two whole deep breaths before the door opens and I am greeted by a house elf.

It figures that a family of such high status would own a house elf.

"How can I help you, Mademoiselle?" the small creature asks, holding the pillow case he is wearing in his small, thick fingers. His head is much to large for his small body and the wrinkles make him look much older than he surely his.

"Um," I try to begin, searching for my voice. "May I please speak with Mr. Malfoy?" I ask, as I wonder if he is even at home at this time of the morning. Or if he is even awake.

I clutch my mother's chest as I wait for him to answer, as if I was expecting this chest of lies to help me in the time I need it the most.

"Of course, Mademoiselle, right this way," the house elf says, leading me into the enormous house.

The ways of the entryway are a perfect shade of light green, though I wouldn't expect anything less coming from a family of Slytherins. The hallways is dimly lit, with all of the blinds only partly drawn. The walls contain at least twenty or so portraits on the wall, all of middle aged blonde men and women; all of the portraits have the same grey eyes with hints of blue.

My eyes.

"Here we are, Mademoiselle," the house elf informs me as we stand outside two tall, oak doors. "May I have your name, to inform the Master of your presence?" he asks me, politely, but in a shy voice.

"Yes, of course. My name is Rose.. err," I pause, unsure of whether or not to give my last name. I decide to go ahead and say "Rose Weasley," deciding that despite the fact Ron Weasley may not be my father, my name is still 'Rose Weasley' on the birth certificate.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Weasley. Just one moment, please," the elf says, as he bows his way into the room, his back to the doors.

The door closes behind him and I faintly here him say, "Master Draco, you have a visitor; a Ms. Rose Weasley. Shall I allow her in?"

I panic for a mere moment. What if he doesn't let me in? What if he refuses to see me? I wouldn't even get the chance to tell him that he is my real father? What if he...

A voice cuts off my train of thought as I hear a very muffled and very confused voice speak, "yes." Of course he is surprised to see me. Of course he wouldn't expect me of all people to request a visit with him; me, who is the daughter of his old lover; me, who is supposedly the daughter of his enemy, Ron Weasley; me, who has the last name of the family he despises the most; me, who...

Once again, my train of thought is cut off, as the house elf opens the door and speak, "come in, Mademoiselle Weasley."

I enter the room and look around, realizing that must me Mr. Malfoy's office. He is sitting at his desk in the back of the room, facing the door; papers scattered semi-neatly across his desk. The walls are, not to my surprise, a dark green, with a silver trim. Wow this guy really was a Slytherin through and through.

"Can I help you Ms. Weasley?" Mr. Malfoy says, his voice somewhere mixed between amused and confused.

"Yes, sir," I answer him, deciding that it would not be the best idea to call him "Dad", "Father", or "Daddy Dearest" until after I explain everything to him. "You, see I came here to talk about my mum." My fingers trace the edges of the chest I hold in my hands, waiting patiently for some kind of reaction for the man my mum cheated on her husband with.

"Ah, I see and what do you think I know about your 'mum'?" he asks, his voice more amused than mean.

Suddenly I felt bolder than I had the entire time since I had learned Draco Malfoy was probably my father. "I think you know quite a bit, actually."

"And why do you think that?"

"For one, you should up at her funeral."

"How do you know it wasn't out of respect?" he counters, his tongue quick and sharp.

"Because of this," I say, as I hold up my mother's chest, before pushing it onto his desk, right in front of him.

"And what is this?" he asks, one again confused. Slowly he opens the box, stares at it, then back at me. "Where did you get this?" he questions me.

"My mum left me the key in her will; I found it this morning when I was up in the attic." My voice remains confident and straightforward.

Looking back down at the chest, he sifts through it until he comes across a picture of him and my mum. Staring at the picture and then back at me, he whispers, "you know you look just like your mum. I noticed it when I was at her funeral a few days back. I thought you were her for an instant; I knew you had to be her daughter. Your build, your cheekbones, your nose, your ears, your smile... you got them all from your mother; everything except for your eyes..."

"Ron Weasley has hazel eyes," I tell him; shocking him.

"Yes, I suppose he does."

"I never knew where I got my eyes from. You see nobody in either the Weasley family nor the Granger family has grey eyes. It wasn't until this morning that I was sure where I got my eyes from. Didn't you ever do the math Mr. Malfoy? Didn't you ever think of the possibilty?"

"What are you talking about Ms. Weasley?" he asks me, clearly not following my logic.

"I was born on June 7th, 2006, Mr. Malfoy. I don't look anything like Mr. Weasley. You were having an affair with my mum nine months before I was born. I have your eyes... your grey eyes..."

He looks at me like I have two heads. "Ms. Weasley, are you trying to tell me that you think you are my daughter?"

"Please Mr. Malfoy. Do the math. I am your daughter. Do you honestly think I look anything like the Weasley family?"

Was he really questioning this?

Well yes, I suppose he was. Perhaps he really doesn't believe me. Perhaps I was wrong when I decided to come here. What on earth am I suppose to do now?

"Oh dear Lord," he whispers, his grey eyes staring right into my own.

"Mr. Malfoy..." I begin, but I am not really sure what to say to him; I think I have said enough as it is.

He stands up, walks around the long, oak desks, and comes towards me; his eyes closely observing my own. "I have a daughter?" He sounds so surprised, but for the first time it sounds like he actually believes me. "I do have a daughter."

I nod my head, once again speechless.

So he is okay with this? He is okay with having a daughter? Especially one that came out of an affair? What about his wife? What about the rest of his family? What about his son?

Oh no.

His son?

Scorpius Malfoy?

Scoripus Malfoy is my brother?

Well... half-brother.

But then again, Hugo Weasley is my half brother too.

Still... SCORPIUS MALFOY IS MY BROTHER??

WOW.

Out of no where, Draco Malfoy... my real father... pulls me into an unexpected hug. Tell me you see a Malfoy has a touchy-touchy person.

Thought not.

At least he isn't denying all of this.

If there is one thing I know about me, is things always seem to happen to me at the wrong moment. How is this a wrong moment you might ask? Well it just so happens that a certain Scorpius Malfoy decides to walk into the room, without knocking, while Draco is holding me in a fatherly hug.

Wow. What a wrong impression that might make.

He clears his throat causing Draco to pull away from me, his grey eyes holding traces of tears as he looks over at his son.

"Umm, Dad? Weasley? What the hell is going on here?" His voice sounds exactly the same as Draco's when he first saw me here; confused. His grey eyes go back and forth between his father and I, trying to figure out what is going on here.

His white blonde hair looks exactly like his father's. He is skinner and not quite as muscular, but the resemblance is very clearly there. He is without a doubt his father's son.

And my brother.

Wow.

"Scorpius, there is someone I would like you to meet..." Draco, my father (wow that is weird to say... err well think...), begins, his voice holding traces of shock and excitement.

"Father, I know who she is... Who doesn't know who Rose Weasley, the daughter of two thirds of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, is? She is almost as famous as her parents. What I don't understand is why she is in our house, in our den, hugging you?" his confused and slightly angry voice says, almost mockingly as he walks closer towards us.

"Actually Scorpius," my father begins again. "That isn't all completely true..."

"What the heck are you talking about Father? Of course I am right. The whole world knows that," he says, arrogantly.

"Yes, Hermione Granger is her mother, yes she is the daughter of one third of the Golden Trio..."

Scorpius cuts him off, "one third?"

"You see Hermione and I had... well... you see... umm.. in 2005, well Hermione and I..." Draco cannot seem to form the words; words that could tear his only son apart.

"Are you trying to tell me you slept with Hermione Weasley? When she was married? And you were married? And my mum was pregnant with me...?"

"Scorpius, meet your sister, Rose," Draco finally is able to get out, his nerves not quite there anymore and his seriousness bursting off of each word.

"WHAT!"

**SO? What do you think so far? That was kind of a big scene and rather hard to write, but I hope it turned out okay. Obviously the story is coming along rather quickly, but hopefully it is all working out okay. Once again, I'm not positive when I will update this story next; it probably will be within a week though (you have to admit I am a pretty fast updater when I have time...) I will be alternating between updating SWEETEST LIES and my other stories THE OTHER WOMAN and TRAPPED. THE OTHER WOMAN will be the next story I updated, then TRAPPED then SWEETEST LIES. (But I'm happy to say TRAPPED is almost done.) The next chapter of this story will bring more Malfoy interaction and Ron will be in the picture as well.**

Thanks,  
RAB  
(I'd love it if you left me a review.)


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